by Frankie Love
Fuck, I may be saying I’m done with this bullshit—but one touch of her hand on my skin and, dammit, I know I’m not done with her.
JoJo
In the VIP room, he closes the door. Before I can hesitate, he pins me against the wall and kisses me.
Hard.
Our mouths press tight against one another, and although I want his hands to touch every part of my body, they rest against my cheeks, and he cradles my face as we give into a long, heavy kiss. Our tongues collide, and he tastes sweet, with the saltiness of sex. I want him and he wants me; his body taunts me even now as his thick cock presses against my core.
When we finally pull apart, I speak first, needing to apologize.
“I’m sorry. I really am, Ryan. I told you I was complicated.”
“I can’t believe you’re dealing with that. It’s like they think we’re in the 1800s or some shit. Girl, you don’t have to give in to them.”
“Really?” I shake my head, laughing softly at his naiveté, at my foolishness. “You don’t know them. Us. My family is the fucking mob, McQueen. My dad ... he’s the boss. It isn’t a joke, or a game where the man with the biggest cock wins. This is bigger than that. Bigger than us.”
“No,” he says flatly. “You’re wrong.”
My heart flashes with disbelief, with childlike hope. “What are you saying? You’re willing to risk your life to be with me? You’re the biggest player in this town. Hell, Lucy knew who you are and you’ve never met. You’ll give that all up to be in with my family?”
He pulls back, shaking his head. And I can’t tell if he wants to kiss me or shake me. Probably both. “Fuck, no. I don’t want to go anywhere near your family.”
My disbelief changes to disappointment. “Well, then, you can’t go anywhere near me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not cutting ties with my family. And that’s what I’d be doing if I fought for a man my family didn’t approve of ... a man who wasn’t in the mafia.”
“You’re kidding me with this, right?”
“No,” I say, pushing out of his arms. I can’t have him judging me. God knows I’m judging myself enough as it is. “My family is the reason I’ve never been with a man. Because I knew this was what would happen. It isn’t fair. To you. To me. To them. This is one game you can’t win, McQueen. You can’t have me.”
“It isn’t that simple. Someone is sending you pictures of their cock. Someone is taking photos of us. Someone is out to get you.”
“Then I’ll stay closer to home,” I tell him. My voice is quiet, because this choice is killing me, but it’s the only option I have. “Look, I already quit the gym. I’ll stay home and help Mary with the kids, and I’m guaranteed to be safe. This isn’t your battle.”
McQueen looks about ready to punch something, or someone, and I know I’m torturing him by standing here in this tiny dress and pushing him away.
I need to go.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, I really am.”
As I pull open the door and walk back to my brothers, a part of me wishes I were worth his fight ... worth his sacrifice. A part of me wishes Ryan McQueen would march out of the doors and punch Peter, Paul, and John in the nuts, and grab my hand and take me away.
But McQueen isn’t the sort of man who begs.
And I’m a woman who just told him no.
I walk to the lobby of the club, where the O’Malley clan is surrounded by Hearts Royalle security, and I let my brothers lead me away.
I don’t turn back.
And not because I don’t want to see Ryan again. But because what I really want is something I know I can never have.
At home I rush off to shower before my brothers can stop me. I need a second to breathe, a second to regroup. As I wash off the sex, I pray the memories of McQueen will spiral down the drain with the water. I need to let go of whatever I’ve allowed him to be.
I dry off, dress in sweats and a tee shirt, and walk downstairs to the kitchen ... as slowly as possible, knowing that my bothers and father are waiting for me.
“Josephine,” my father begins, “your brothers tell me you were at the new Hearts Royalle club tonight?” He has a cigar in his mouth and a tumbler of whiskey on the table in front of him.
I slide into a chair at the kitchen table and nod. There’s no use in lying, in pretending I am or have been anything other than what I am: Deceitful and strong willed, disobedient and desperate.
Horny as hell.
I blink, letting my eyes rest on the trash can overflowing in the corner. Stems from the red roses stick in the air. Who sent those? I want to ask them for the card that accompanied the bouquet ... not that I could identify the sender by the dick photo. I’ve only seen one in my life. McQueen’s.
I shudder, watch my brothers enter the kitchen. “Where are Mary and Lucy?” I ask.
“Lucy is staying at Mary’s for the night, helping with the kids,” Paul says. “We dropped them off.”
“I see.” I purse my lips, realizing they’ve intended to get me alone. “I could really have gone with. I feel bad that Lucy is over there.”
“Could have, but can’t,” John tells me. “And you should have thought of that before you went to some VIP room with a fucking stripper.”
I roll my eyes, hating myself for the juvenile response, but I feel so stuck right now. So caught. Like I’m in a trap. I told McQueen I couldn’t be with a man who didn’t live within the rules of my family ... but it was—is—more than that. I can’t be with McQueen because I’m promised to Grotto.
My father clears his throat. “It’s my understanding that you were with a man tonight. Is that right, Josephine?”
“He’s a friend of Lucy’s. He happens to work there. It was a coincidence. Nothing happened.”
He shakes his head. “JoJo, this isn’t good for the family. And if this man, McQueen,” he looks up at my brothers for confirmation, “is going to be a problem, we need to discuss it now. He sends my daughter photos of himself? Is this a joke to you? Because your brothers were prepared to kill that man tonight.”
“You’re overreacting. It was a joke,” I tell them, realizing I’m throwing McQueen under the bus but knowing it’s my only way out. An out McQueen already gave me back at the club. “McQueen isn’t a threat. He thinks he’s funny.”
“Is this funny to you?” my dad asks, slamming his fist against the table. “Because your reputation isn’t a joke.”
“I know. I just needed a night to have some fun. Don’t you remember being young, Dad? I just ... if I’m getting married in a few weeks...”
“What, you want to play around like Mary? Forgetting everything that matters?” he asks.
“No. Look, I’m not asking for complete freedom. I don’t want to run away from my life like Mary seems to be doing.... I just—if I’m marrying Grotto in a matter of weeks, can I at least have a little bit of space until then?”
“What do you mean by space?” my father asks. “Because strip clubs aren’t space. They’re dangerous.”
I shake my head, hating the double standard. My brothers have been going to strip clubs for years. Hell, I’m sure my dad frequents them himself. But what? I’m supposed to sit at home, waiting for them to return?
“I know Ace Royalle is bad news for the family—he’s clean money and we’re ... not. Going to his new club was a bad idea. I’m sorry. And I will marry Grotto, with a smile on my face, if that’s what the family needs. But please, don’t get on my case right now for wanting to put on a dress and go dancing with my best friend and my sister.”
My father nods solemnly, listening to me. He may be a hardass, but he isn’t a monster.
“I wish Mom were here. She’d see that this is hard enough already, that I’m giving you everything, Dad. Can I just have this one thing? A few weeks of freedom?”
He clears his throat, looks right at me. His decision is made. “No more dancing. No more men. But I won’t be putting you on hou
se arrest. I know this marriage is a sacrifice.”
I wipe away the tears on my face. “Is this marriage alliance necessary?”
“I wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t, a leanbh. The Grottos and the O’Malleys are going to be in business together. If this alliance is made between you and Frank, it will ensure stability for the family for generations to come.”
His use of the old Irish words meaning my child catches me off guard. He hasn’t spoken words of endearment like that to me since before Mom died.
“I wish your mother were still alive, too. She always knew what was best with you girls,” Dad says. “But sending your brothers to find you tonight was not an overreaction. Mary gets ideas in her head. And Connor is angry with her. She can make trouble when she gets this way. You can’t follow in her footsteps, Josephine.”
“I won’t, Dad. I promise.” I stand from the table, knowing the conversation is over. I kiss his cheek, knowing my promise seals my fate with Grotto…and McQueen.
Chapter Fifteen
McQUEEN
I don’t get it. I just don’t fucking get it. She left with those fuckers. She left me. Nobody walks away from me.
Trying to not lose my cool in front of a packed club, my best friends, and their women, I turn in circles. Ace & Emmy. Landon & Claire. Jack & Ashley. And then lonely ol’ Tess. Everyone is here, staring at me after the opening night festivities departed.
“I gotta get some air,” I tell them.
“You sure you wanna go?” Ace asks. “Stay and have a few rounds.”
“We’ll have a car take you home,” Landon offers. In the distance we see the O’Malley clan leave through the front doors, led out by security.
I look at my friends and their women; everyone is dressed to kill in suits and designer everything, and I look like I just left the fucking gym in my sweats and hoodie. Hell, maybe that’s where I should be. Let off some fucking steam.
“I’m gonna lose my shit,” I tell them, running my hands through my hair.
“What you need is a drink. Come. Sit down,” Emmy says, her arms threading around Ace’s back. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere, it looks like you’re going to punch something. Or someone.”
Knowing she’s right, I follow my crew to a table in a roped-off area. Once we’re seated, and once Ashley Fast has agreed to pose for about a dozen photos with adoring fans, we get a couple bottles of tequila delivered to the table and start in with the shots.
“I know her. Your girl, JoJo,” Landon’s wife Claire says, her face puckered after throwing back some fine Patrón. “She’s always at Sophia’s school picking up her nephew Hardy, but I had no idea she was connected.”
“Her dad’s the boss,” I tell them. “I’ve been fucking the boss’s daughter and I didn’t know.”
“Would it have changed anything?” Emmy asks. “I mean, you care about her, right?”
Jack snorts. “Care about her? Have you ever heard McQueen care about a woman?”
Ashley throws him a cocked eyebrow. “People change, Jack. There’s always a first.”
I’ve never heard Ashley speak two complete sentences back-to-back, so it takes me a second to absorb her words. I do care about JoJo. That isn’t the issue. The truth is I rank a distant second to her real-life Godfather family.
Fuck. I take another shot.
“McQueen doesn’t care about this girl. Let’s just take a second to clear that up, okay honey?” Jack responds to Ashley.
“And how do you know that?” she presses back.
Oh good. The evening wouldn’t be complete without listening to these two bicker.
“I know because he sent a fucking dick-pic to her house with a dozen roses.”
“Oh, shit, really?” Ace asks, immediately cracking up. Jack was the only one there when JoJo’s brother mentioned it.
“What are you, in junior high?” Landon asks. “Seriously, and how does one even make a hard copy of a photograph anymore? I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
“Hard copy. Get it?” Jack slaps his knee, thinking this is all hilarious. And, under normal circumstances, it would be. But this isn’t normal. Knowing Josephine’s family tree, I’m getting a better clue as to why.
“Listen, it wasn’t my cock. I don’t whose it was.”
“Wait. What?” Tess asks. “She has another guy?”
“No. It’s the stalker from last week. I mean, that’s our guess. It sure as fuck wasn’t me.”
“And you’re sure she isn’t playing you?” Emmy asks as she leans into Ace’s chest. The table is filled with couples wrapped around one other.
“I’m willing to swallow my pride. But I really don’t think she has anyone else.”
“Who’s after her? And why?” Ace asks, leaning in.
“Good fucking questions. All I know is she ended things with me, and went back home with them.”
“Is she worth fighting for?” Claire asks. Her eyes meet Landon’s and, fuck, I feel like I’m invading their personal moment. But the thing is, I know Claire fucking fought for Landon. And that fight was worth it. It gave them a chance at love.
Is that what I’m after? Is that what I’m looking for? Is that what JoJo could be for me?
I feel like she and I got shortchanged on finding out.
“I don’t know what to do,” I tell them, refilling the shot glasses. “She made her choice.”
Tess reaches across the table for the tequila, shrugging. “She made her choice ... but you still can make yours.” I watch as her eyes land on Jack’s, before she downs the shot.
But Tess doesn’t understand JoJo. When that girl walked away from me, there was no doubt in her mind. I’m not gonna fucking beg her to come back.
Even if it’s the one thing I’m dying to do.
JoJo
A week later, I’m mixing a bottle of formula for Justice when my phone rings. I look at the caller. Kit.
I’m tempted to answer it.
I screw the top of the bottle back on, ready to feed Justice, only to find her asleep in her swing. The phone rings again. Kit.
“You gonna answer that?” Lucy asks. She’s sitting at a barstool, watching me clean the kitchen. “That’s the fourth time in a row he’s called. Maybe someone died.”
I tap my fingers on the granite counter top. “I just don’t want to be teased with something I can’t have.”
“What are you referring to? McQueen or the fighting?”
“Shhh,” I tell her, pressing my finger to my mouth.
“What? Justice is out cold.”
“No. Someone could hear.”
“Jo, your sister is out shopping. Again. We’re alone in her house. You can say whatever you like.”
I shake my head, knowing that isn’t the case. Not at all. My family may have given me a hall pass from house arrest, but they still have eyes and ears everywhere. I’d say my life completely blows, but at least my stalker hasn’t made another move.
“Oh my God, you are the worst best friend, you know that, right?” she asks, walking to the fridge and grabbing a can of Coke.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, there is clearly some shady stuff going on with you, and you won’t let me in. At all. I’ve been coming here, helping you with the kids—”
“Which I never asked you to do,” I point out.
She gives an exaggerated sigh. “But I wanted to. Because I’m your BFF. But this relationship is getting pretty one-sided. You don’t even ask about my life.”
I blow air out of my cheeks, feeling like shit, using a sponge to wipe down the counters. “You’re totally right, sorry. Tell me everything.”
She laughs. “Well. Actually there’s nothing to tell. Grad school sucks. I haven’t had sex in a month. My jeans are too tight because I’ve been eating Hardy and Bailey’s leftover mac ’n’ cheese and chicken nuggets all week.”
“Thank you for the status update.” I set down the sponge and open the dishwasher to unload i
t. “And sorry for being so lame. I’ve been really self-absorbed.”
“Well, good, I’m glad you have some self-awareness. But what are you so wrapped up with? Why did your brothers go all crazy on you at the club?”
Sighing, I consider my options. The longer I wait to tell her, the worse it will end. Friends don’t get married and just forget to mention it.
“If I tell you, do you swear not to go batshit on me?”
“I swear.”
“I’m getting married.”
“What the actual fuck?”
I sit next to her on a barstool and try to explain the arranged marriage to Grotto.
“He gets out in a week. And then we’re getting married.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I don’t really know any of the details and, to be honest, I don’t really care. We’ll go to a courthouse and he’ll take me to his family compound.”
Lucy gives a long, slow whistle. “Damn. I mean, I know you’re family is all gangsta ... but this? Jo ... this is sort of insane.”
I shake my head. “I knew you’d judge me. That’s why I never said anything.”
She squints her eyes in disapproval. “But why would you agree to this?”
“My family needs me to do this. It’s like ... an alliance with another family.”
“What year is this, Jo?” She scoffs. “Girl, I mean … family is family, but you don’t have to marry someone against your will.”
“It’s not against my will. My dad asked me to do this, and I said yes. Willingly.” Even as I say the words, though, I know it isn’t the absolute truth. No one asked for my opinion on the matter, no one considered my thoughts or feelings when they made the arrangement.
“It’s marriage, though. Do you even know this guy?”
“Not really. But I trust my dad and my brothers. They would never put me in a situation where I might get hurt.”
At this, Lucy jumps from the stool and starts pacing the room.
“Might be hurt? What the hell? Maybe you won’t get hurt, but will you be happy? Is this why you aren’t at the gym? Aren’t sleeping with McQueen?”
